


Puzzle Pieces

by wonderluck



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Abby is a bit of a loose cannon I love her, F/F, Ghostbusters on a brief bust, odd declarations of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:10:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderluck/pseuds/wonderluck
Summary: Abby jangles a set of keys above her head as she enters the room with Holtzmann in tow. "Today's the big day, ladies! Due to Patty's unfortunate night blindness, we're out a driver--"
  "I still have this, guys!" Holtzmann says as she holds up her license with both hands. "It's real!"  "No," Patty says. "I told you. Not my uncle's car."How everyone fit into their role in the Ghostbusters.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharkfights (feartown)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feartown/gifts).



> This takes place both during the events of the movie and after in order to meet multiple prompts. Hope it works for you. :)

After another group dinner, Abby sits with Kevin to once again go over the proper usage of the phone. "First, I just-- I didn't even know they still had these-- please don't call phone psychics. It ties up the phone and we will eventually have clients calling." She picks up the phone bill and raises an eyebrow. "Five times? What could you possibly want to know?"

Kevin smiles and leans back in his chair. "I wanted to know if I booked a commercial."

"And you couldn't just call your agent?" 

Abby watches as his face goes from confused to blank to pensive to pleased realization. 

"Ah, yes I could, boss." Kevin picks up a pen and jots down CALL AGENT FIRST on a bright pink Post-it note. He has ringed the entirety of his monitor with Post-its like a neon lion's mane. 

In the kitchen upstairs, Patty rifles through a drawer until she finds a new box of plastic wrap. Erin gathers up their leftovers and a black marker to label each of their names on them (Holtzmann has no leftovers and sips her soda loudly). 

"Where the hell does this thing start?" Patty asks, flipping the plastic roll over and over in her hands. She holds it up to the light and turns it in another full revolution. She makes a disgusted noise and holds it out to Erin. "Here. Maybe you can crack this one."

Erin takes the roll. "All right, let's see what we've got here," she says, peeling at the edge, trying to fit a finger under the wrap. She is able to peel a minute portion away from the roll and unravel just the edge. It spans the entire side of the roll. "This-this is impossible." She attempts the other side while pulling in the center, trying to loosen it. Soon she is bent over with the roll between her knees, both hands struggling with the plastic. "What the hell! There must be a trick to this. Someone pull up Youtube!"

"No, here," Holtzmann says, jumping up from her seat. "Lemme try."

Patty snaps her fingers. "You know how forensic scientists use that mist glue stuff to bring out fingerprints?"

Holtzmann gets a manic twinkle in her eye. "Heat, we need heat."

The battle with the plastic wrap escalates until the microwave fills with smoke hovering over a jumble of melted plastic. 

"I honestly thought that idea had merit," Erin says as Abby enters the room.

All three women in the kitchen look instantly guilty. Abby frowns and points at the microwave. "What is that?" 

On cue, the microwave sparks. A fire starts inside, flames illuminating the twisting plastic. Holtzmann keeps her eyes on Abby, feigning a casual look, as she slowly makes her way to the fire extinguisher. She pulls the key on the unit and is almost back to the microwave when Patty pops the door open and motions to Holtzmann with both hands to hurry. Holtzmann frowns but passes her the extinguisher, and Patty blasts the inside of the microwave.

Abby throws her hands up. "I leave the room for FIVE MINUTES…" She barges into the kitchen. "Can't be trusted with keys and now this…"

Holtzmann brings her fist down on the table, just forceful enough to make a thump. "Should've just used a saw."

Abby rolls her eyes. "Put it on the grocery list, people: We're an aluminum foil house from now on."

* * *

Patty is on the job for less than a week when Abby tosses out an idea. "Patty, do you think you could plot out some areas of interest? Old mental hospitals, prisons, stuff like that?"

"I can do that. Maybe throw in old organized crime spots, too. Don't want to run into any mafia ghosts blindly, you know?"

"And Erin, could you order us another fire extinguisher, maybe some rubber bands too? Kevin seems to have broken most of the ones we had."

Patty starts typing into a spreadsheet while Erin shops online.

Patty pauses. "No disrespect, but what is your role here?"

Abby calls out from across the room. "It's important! Very, very high level stuff," she says, holding her hand up near her forehead like she's measuring up from the ground.

"Yeah," Erin agrees. She smiles nervously. "Big picture type things... I wear a lot of hats. Mostly..." She looks away and then back. "Mostly unpacking boxes. Ordering supplies. We're getting new whiteboards any day now!" she says cheerfully.

"And my silver markers?" Holtzmann asks as she walks past Erin's desk. She takes a pen from Erin's desk and draws lightning bolts on a pad of paper.

"And your silver markers, yes," Erin says, somewhat exasperated. 

"And the paint?"

"What paint?" 

"Nothing! Forget I asked."

Erin pulls the copy of the order out of her files. "I did not put this in the cart! Were you--did you get on my computer?"

"It's in the realm of possibility," Holtzmann says with a wink.

* * *

Abby jangles a set of keys above her head as she enters the room with Holtzmann in tow. "Today's the big day, ladies! Due to Patty's unfortunate night blindness, we're out a driver--"

"I still have this, guys!" Holtzmann says as she holds up her driver's license with both hands. "It's real!"

"No," Patty says. "I told you. Not my uncle's car."

"But I drove my grandma to dialysis all the time. I'm very careful!"

The group eyes Holtzmann warily.

Abby carries on, "--so cross your fingers I pass today."

The team, including Kevin, shouts "Woo!" and high fives Abby on her way out the door.

After Abby and Holtzmann arrive at the Department of Licensing, the instructor for Abby's driving exam explains the test as he arranges his clipboard. He inspects the hearse for safety, walking slowly around the car with a look of open dismay on his face.

Holtzmann stands in front of Abby giving her a pep talk, hands on both of Abby's shoulders:

"You're an unstoppable force. A freight train of awesomeness." Her voice becomes an approximation of every boxing movie's old coach. "This test's got nothin' on you, kid. You're a champion, so go out there and take what's yours!"

The instructor clears his throat before he speaks. "Let's enter the vehicle and begin the test."

Holtzmann holds her pressed hands out to Abby, and Abby begins their handshake.

Holtzmann sings the first bar of "We Are the Champions."

"We don't have time for Queen now," Abby says.

Holtzmann's voice is quiet. "But later, right?"

"Oh, you know it."

"NOW, if you please, Ms. Yates," he says.

"Sorry!" Abby says excitedly, jogging over to the driver's side door.

The instructor arranges himself in the passenger seat. The backdoor behind Abby opens and Holtzmann climbs in, bouncy with anticipation.

The instructor turns to look over his shoulder. Holtzmann nods to him.

The instructor narrows his eyes. "Absolutely not."

Holtzmann makes a disappointed noise and slinks out of the car. 

"Please put the car in drive and make a right hand turn onto this street," the instructor says, pointing ahead of them. 

Holtzmann salutes Abby from the sidewalk. Abby smiles and waves.

Abby properly executes three of four kinds of turns before she maneuvers the hearse into place beside the curb. She is too far from the curb and has to correct six times. The instructor prompts her: "Please park the car for the appropriate slope of the hill."

Abby puts the car in neutral like Holtzmann had showed her. She waits for the car to roll. The car does nothing. She chews on her lower lip, her hand hesitating over the gear shift, before she curbs the tires. She puts the car in park and waits. 

The instructor raises an eyebrow and makes a noise in the back of his throat. He scratches something down on his clipboard.

"What? What are you writing?"

The instructor tsks and finishes writing. "It was downhill. If you cannot properly park a car--"

"The car _literally did not move_ ," she says with more volume than intended.

Abby drives with a grimace plastered on her face as the instructor ticks off more points. Holtzmann can see in the distance as Abby finishes by mowing down 8 traffic cones in a row and then drives in a slow donut. 

She pulls up in front of Holtzmann. The instructor tears off the sheet of her test results, shakes a firm finger at her, and slams the car door behind him. Holtzmann climbs into the passenger seat.

"So, how'd it go?"

* * *

Erin discovers Holtzmann napping in the hearse. Paint is caked from her forearms to her fingertips. Erin leans down and taps on the window. Holtzmann startles awake. "Montpelier! Tallahassee!"

Erin frowns and opens the door. "You were dreaming about state capitals?"

"My baby blanket was a crocheted map of the United States," Holtzmann says as she sits up groggily.

Erin picks up the ghost hood ornament. "Did you make this?" She holds it up to the light and studies it. "Can you teach me?"

Holtzmann extracts herself from the car. "One: No. Etsy is a beautiful thing." She reaches for the hood ornament and closes her fingers around it, but does not take it from Erin's hand. She overlaps Erin's fingers with her own. "And two: I can teach you lots of things," she says and there is faint smirk on her lips. Holtzmann moves a bit closer. Her eyes are on Erin's, bright and observant. Holtzmann's eyes dart down to Erin's lips and back up, again and again.

Erin feels herself swaying on her feet. She laughs nervously, cheeks painted full blush. Sweat pinpricks at her temples and her laugh has turned into silent shakes. "Oop! Phone's ringing!" She reaches into her pocket and fishes out her phone, immediately holding it to her ear. "Hello?" she asks as she pushes the ghost ornament fully into Holtzmann's hand. "Oh, hello, Dr.—Dr. Bevens." 

Holtzmann pulls her own phone from her pocket and uses her thumb to unlock the screen. 

"Good! Good! How are you?" Erin says too loudly as she holds the phone to her shoulder. "I should take this, sorry." She starts to back away. 

Holtzmann punches another set of buttons on her phone screen and it begins to dial. 

Erin's phone rings shrilly at her temple. "Oww!" Erin winces and pulls the phone away from her head.

Holtzmann raises an eyebrow at her and turns her phone to face Erin. A screenshot of Erin's face from the Ghosts Are Real video is on the phone's screen with the word "Calling" underneath.

"Dropped call! Must've dropped off. I'll—I'll just go see what Abby's up to," Erin says and she flees the room. 

"Hey," Patty says as Erin skids to a halt downstairs and walks casually to her desk. "You want anything? I'm going down to the bodega."

"Ah, Spanish for 'food prison,'" Erin says and holds up her forefinger like she's in professor mode. 

"You know, that's the closest you've come so far, so I'm gonna let you have that one," she says. "But, man, have you even studied Spanish? Hablas Español?"

"I already ate, but thank you," Erin says, shrugging one shoulder and leaning in toward Patty like they were sharing a secret.

Patty rolls her eyes. "What language did you study in school?" 

"French, actually, but I lived in the Bronx for three months so I feel like I have a _pret-ty_ good grasp of the language."

"Oookay, well that's that, huh?" Patty leans back in her chair and points toward her monitor. "Maybe you could get a refresher online? I know it's not as good as your past immersion experience…" 

Erin pulls herself up to her full height and glares at Patty. "Maybe I will." 

* * *

"The GPS isn't working," Holtzmann says as she makes a turn and the GPS screen remains frozen. 

Abby taps on the screen none too gently. The screen does not respond. She taps again and holds her finger on the screen off to one side. "Where on Earth is the menu?" The picture on the monitor scrolls to the right, skipping street after street. 

Holtzmann gestures to the GPS with her chin. "Go back one. I think we want north."

"Guys," Patty says, leaning forward into the space between the two front seats. "Take a left here."

Abby drags her finger along the screen and it zooms in on a park. She makes a frustrated noise. "What! What do you want from me? I'll give it to you!"

"Do you really not know how to get to Harlem? Where y'all been for the duration?" Patty's brow is furrowed. "Have you not ventured outside a 10 block radius?"

Holtzmann turns to Patty and gestures with one hand. "The subway--" she starts. 

A car horn blares to their right.

"Holtzy, watch the road!" Patty yells as Holtzmann swerves.

A moment passes in silence before Erin screeches in the backseat.

Abby and Patty turn their heads slowly to face Erin. "You okay there, champ?" Abby asks. 

Erin is scrunched up starting at the waist, and her eyes are closed. "Is it over?"

"I got this, Erin," Holtzmann says and pats the steering wheel before she reaches her hand behind her into the backseat. Erin grasps it. "Don't you worry about a thing."

They arrive at the bust and launch in, full swing. Busting has become second nature, easy as a cab driver making conversation with a fare. As they lay waste to malevolent and generally annoying ghosts, they chat about their families and early life, their dreams and goals. And Holtzmann talks about her favorite sandwich fixings, her preferred coolant, her favorite board game as a child ("Sorry: where you can be ruthless while apologizing to someone's face. Those are the rules!")… and Erin.

Holtzmann fires off three questions in quick succession as each woman is occupied with a ghost:  
"Erin, what's your favorite Easter egg color?"  
"What are your top three karate moves?"  
"Hey, Erin, describe your perfect Sunday. Asking for a friend."

Abby and Patty roll their eyes while Erin puzzles over these questions and basks in the attention. "Orange." She pauses. "I don't have any favorite karate moves?"

Holtzmann nods. "Okay, a Bruce Lee marathon can fix that. And Sunday?"

Erin tosses a ghost grenade. "Hot cocoa with the big, pillowy marshmallows," she says and holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. Holtzmann smiles. Erin shrugs her shoulders with a dreamy look on her face, eyes up toward the ceiling. "An early morning. Doing the crossword." She ducks as a ghost flies toward her head. "Maybe reading a trashy romance novel."

Holtzmann frowns, her chin jutting out. "Oh boy," she says under her breath as she and Abby direct a ghost over the trap. Abby snaps the ghost trap shut and takes a breath. 

Holtzmann high fives her. "All right, let's get out of here. I'm craving quesadillas."

After a drive back to headquarters, fully directed by Patty, Holtzmann gleefully gathers up the ingredients for quesadillas. "New microwave, here I come!" she calls out.

She later returns carrying four plates of quesadillas into the room, perfectly balanced, like she has done work as a waitress. Erin can't imagine what Holtzmann would be like as a server. She makes a mental note to ask Holtzmann about it one day.

One plate has a dollop of sour cream on the side and the other plates are bare. Holtzmann looks at each plate before she unceremoniously sets a plate down next to Erin and moves on to Patty and Abby.

"Haute cuisine from Chez Holtzmann," she says and takes a large bite from her own quesadilla. She turns and bounds up the stairs with her plate in-hand.

Abby and Patty eye the plate next to Erin and then each other.

"Whoa," Patty says.

"What just happened?" Abby says, pointing.

"She gave her the last of the sour cream. Oh my god."

"What?" Erin says with a mouthful of quesadilla. 

"This is big time."

"It's just sour cream, guys."

"The last of it," Patty says. "She didn't take it for herself. Which she _always does_."

Abby nods. "Holtzmann doesn't even BUY her own food for the most part. That right there is pretty much a marriage proposal."

"What?" Erin asks, her voice small.

"Dear god, you're so brilliant and so dense at the same time. You and Holtzmann. Together?" Abby says.

"Huh?"

"Jesus! You. and. Holtzmann, Erin. Sitting in a tree, all that," Abby says and Patty nods firmly.

"You know I don't date women," Erin says. 

"Uh, apparently you _do_ because you _are_."

Erin looks at them blankly.

Abby and Patty launch into rapid fire questioning: "So when you guys went for dinner at that nice Italian place, just the two of you?" Patty asks.

"As friends! I thought you and Abby were having ramen."

"When you two went to see _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ and you didn't invite me even though you know I live for that movie?" Abby asks.

"Yeah, well..."

"How about the fact that Holtzmann takes your soda when you're not looking but _doesn't drink it all?_ "

"…Ewww?"

"How did you not notice that? She's like a puppy," Patty says.

Abby raises an eyebrow. "You think that empty slurping noise would be a clue."

Erin frowns.

"Oh man, we forgot the biggest one." Patty claps her hands together. "When Holtzmann took you dancing at that lesbian bar?"

"You and Abby came to that too!"

"Yeah, we did! And had to invite ourselves! We weren't gonna miss that spectacle. We snuck a bag of microwave popcorn in Patty's purse."

Erin looks down and scratches a fingernail at the tabletop. "It was nothing." 

"No, no. We," Abby starts and circles her forefinger to emphasize she means the group, "we kid around sometimes with the dancing, but you and I have never stared each other down like you and Holtzmann did. It was, dare I say it, primal."

Erin blushes crimson. "But she's not—she's not attracted to me. There were so many women there. I'm sure she flirted with ten of them that night."

Patty holds up one hand. "Whoa. Now you know that's not true."

Erin looks dejected. "She hasn't kissed me."

"And she won't because you're like a house with no lights on right now. She wouldn't plant one on you unless she knew for sure you were into it." Abby puts her hand gently over Erin's. "Date her for real or cut her loose."

* * *

Erin climbs the stairs to the second floor lab. She looks back before reaching the top. Patty and Abby give her the thumbs up, and Abby waves her on. Erin's heart does wind sprints in her chest. 

She can hear Holtzmann humming over the sound of metal pinging against metal. Holtzmann comes into view, bent over a project on the table. 

Erin clears her throat as she crosses the room, clasping her hands tight in front of her. She is noticeably sweating.

"Problem?" Holtzmann asks sincerely as she switches off her blowtorch. She pulls off her gloves and assesses Erin through her goggles.

Erin fans her face with one hand. "It has come to my attention that..." She trails off, watching Holtzmann pin a lock of hair back into place. Holtzmann's shirt rides up to reveal a stripe of skin between her shirt and jeans as her hands work the bobby pin. Erin gulps loudly enough for Holtzmann to hear.

Holtzmann catches her eye. Her grin falls away and a more serious expression takes its place. "Oh, this is happening now? Okay, um." She smoothes out her hair and straightens her tie. "Continue," she says and inclines her head.

Erin smiles weakly. "I—we... Oh, fuck it." She launches herself at Holtzmann, lips pressing desperately against hers.

Holtzmann freezes momentarily before she kisses back with fervor, hands cradling Erin's face. She breaks apart long enough to pull off her goggles and toss them on the table. "You're springy like a flying squirrel. It's really working for me."

"No talking right now," Erin says and kisses her again.

Holtzmann takes it as a personal challenge. She goes about making Erin as weak in the knees as possible. Erin is the one who comes up for air this time. She walks over to the stairs and calls down:

"Guys? I—"

Patty cuts her off before she can continue. "Hey! We're gonna take off. Lots of… errands to run." 

Abby's voice carries up right after Patty's. "So many errands!" There is a flurry of sound: laptops slamming shut, keys rattling, shoes scraping on the floor. 

"Wanna watch Jurassic Park?" Holtzmann asks, now leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. Erin thinks that even James Dean would've been jealous of Holtzmann's bedroom eyes.

"Hmm. Can we still make out?" Erin asks.

Holtzmann gives her a small smile, nods, and holds out her hand.

The slap of a high five rings out from downstairs and the heavy door to the firehouse shuts firmly.

**Author's Note:**

> The super fun prompts were: Who let Holtzmann drive? How did Abby become team mom? What does Erin even do? And Patty + irritated navigation. And Erin/Holtzmann.


End file.
